


White Blank Page

by lambient



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst for days, F/M, Graphic descriptions of violence, That's pretty much what this story is based off of, Wow, also some fluff probably, and yeah, because well it just fits so nicely, hi has anyone read The Sunne in Splendour???, mature for later chapters, or well the war of roses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 20:12:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18105635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lambient/pseuds/lambient
Summary: Thor is king, and Loki will not settle. He'd burn the entire palace to the ground before he’d let himself be forgotten.At any rate he's very well tried.A 1400’s AU based off of The War of Roses





	White Blank Page

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, welcome to ANOTHER story!! Yeah, it's definitely short but maybe i'll continue it?? I don't know dudes it just depends on what mood I am. So some basic information before you start the story, this is 100% based off of The War of Roses in like the 1400's because omg yesss it's like a soap opera and just it's perfect for this. Basically everyone in the world should read The Sunne in Splendour because it's so good and yeah. Also the story takes place in Sigyn's perspective and not everything really adds up (mythology wise_ but that's just for the sake of the AU. so yeah, if you like it maybe review? Or just let me know how poor my grandma and junk is. 
> 
> (Also I highly recommend listening to Mumford and Sons White Blank Page because this story was very much so sparked by that song.)

The bells scream for their new king, they press their love into the air and tick relentlessly. The people are joyous and there are parades that never end. Confetti line’s the streets and for a moment it is as if they have never known war. As if the death of the former king wasn’t the reason the crown laid upon the new one’s head.

 

Today was the king’s official coronation, when he would be recognized by god and parliament and the world. Which is why my family has come to court, to show our support in favor of the new king. Our cousin who I could only remember as golden and boyish. I can no longer be openly familiar with him. For he is no longer a prince.

 

We were invited to court many moons ago, but my mother has always been wary of society. So, at home my sister and I stayed with our governess. My mother was a wealthy heiress in her own right, but my father was a duke, with so many lands I could not recall the names of them all.  

 

We were by no means poor, we ate like kings and we had gowns fashioned of the finniest silk. However, that had not prepared me for the lavishness of court, it left me feeling bland and ordinary amongst the vibrant kaleidoscope of the royals.

 

The golden crown placed neatly atop King Thor’s golden head is lovely and sparkling and for all he's grown in the past few years I can only see a boy. A boy too small for a crown that big. Who's smile can only be described as youthful. With charisma vibrating in the low tremor of his voice when he spoke. That shone effortlessly so in his boisterous laugh. But he is no longer a boy, I can see that now. He is a man and his eyes flash violently with the promise of good things to come.

 

Beside him resides a mother proud and wounded all the same. A widow, and a queen all at once. Regal in the way royalty always is. But there is pain deep and rooted, something that I wager is probably permanent now.

 

And next to her is the dark prince, eyes cold and grey. Looking, no peering, out at the people before him. For a moment something greedy and burning fills his face, perhaps because no one is looking at him. Not anymore.  Nobody looks at a prince when there is a king before them.

 

I am reminded all at once of the times they visited our castle frequently and their laughter filled the halls of a home grand and towering even though it wasn’t a palace. When they had been boys and not princes.

 

When Loki had been soft for me and for all his complaints truly liked the attention, I paid him. With my open admiring eyes, even when he was mean. Even when he had pulled my hair and told me princes didn’t mingle with little girls. Little girls who didn’t know how to sword fight and were far better at playing dress up.

 

But he had been sincere when we were alone, when he had let me name his dog. When he had stoked my golden ringlets as I pretended to sleep curled up in his lap. He had been gentle once. He had been mine once. But that was years ago, when we were children and didn’t know we’d be fighting a war born of his greed.

 

                --

 

 


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